


In the Moment

by MiraMira



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: 1000-3000 words, F/M, Love, One Shot, Present Tense, Rare Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-27
Updated: 2009-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-03 21:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraMira/pseuds/MiraMira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ted and Andromeda still aren't sure they approve of their daughter's husband, especially with the way he's been acting.  But they also know they aren't ones to talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Hogwarts Elite contest.

The third morning after Dora's unexpected arrival, Ted and Andromeda happen to look up at the same moment from their respective sections of the _Daily Prophet_. (This will turn out to be the last issue delivered to the Tonks household until after the war; fed up with the one-sided coverage and increasingly fearful of the uses the mailing lists might be put to, Ted will cancel their subscription the next day.) They hold each other's gaze only a second or two longer than normal, but it is enough. Without speaking, they stand and set about their mutual tasks: Andromeda to the kitchen, already Summoning herbal tea and her largest kettle; Ted up the stairs to his daughter's bedroom.

"It's open," a subdued voice that bears only a superficial resemblance to the plucky girl who rarely cried even as an infant informs him after the first knock.

He pushes the door open. As always, the room looks ransacked by an overenthusiastic Niffler, though none of the damage is recent, which disturbs him almost as much as the sight of Dora herself, curled up beneath her quilt. Her hair is an all-too familiar mousy shade he hasn't seen in months and has quite frankly been hoping never to see again. Spotting him, she offers up a weak smile and turns the tips a shade of pink much fainter than the one rimming her tear ducts. The visible strain this paltry effort appears to cost her makes his heart lurch.

"Dora, love," he says gently, making his way past the piles of socks and training manuals to the foot of the bed. "Your mother and I don't mean to pry, but we are curious how long you plan to stay with us."

The pink in Dora's hair vanishes, along with any semblance of composure. "I…don't…_know_," she sobs.

He climbs up beside her, ignoring the bed's squeaks of protest, and rocks her against him. She feels almost as light as she did the last time he attempted to soothe her in this fashion, though her cries take longer to subside. "Shh, shh. What happened?"

In answer, she reaches into her pocket and hands him a creased, tearstained piece of parchment. He scans the shaky handwriting, only able to make out fragments of lines: _"…against my better judgment," "For a time, I deluded myself…," "impossible for one who does not live with my burden to understand," "…tried, but the thought of forever condemning you to the shame of…," "Please believe me that this is for the best."_

Ted is not a violent man, nor a prejudiced one. He has never felt any particular hatred toward werewolves; at times, he has even sympathized with their struggles to gain respect and recognition from wizarding society at large. But at present, he wants nothing more than a shotgun loaded with silver in his hands.

It takes a moment for his vision to clear, and to realize that Dora is speaking. "…part that hurts worst isn't even that he left. It's that he couldn't tell me to my face." She stares up at him, her expression still childlike, still hoping he has all the answers. "Why couldn't he even give me that much, Dad?"

He stares into her eyes, the ones that remind him so much of her mother's when she's upset, and his murderous urges toward his son-in-law fade away. "Maybe because he does love you."

-

Ted blinks at the hollow in bed beside him and his outstretched arm, vexed. He cannot explain why it feels wrong for the space in question to be empty, when no one but him has slept in it before this night, but he knows he will not be able to rest again until he has solved the mystery of where its erstwhile occupant has gone.

Propping himself up on one arm, he finds her seated at his desk. To his displeasure, he notes she is fully dressed. "Dromeda?" he whispers, not certain whether his parents are back from the company Christmas party yet. "What are you doing up?"

"Nothing. Go back to sleep."

"Not without you." Wrapping the sheet around himself, he gets up and comes over to investigate, chuckling a little as he notices the quill in her hand. "Don't tell me you're worrying about assignments at a time like this. I know that essay on the uses of dragon's blood is going to take forever, but hols have barely started."

She shakes herself free of the arm he attempts to throw around her shoulder. "Ted, please."

"What's wrong?" He cannot reconcile this sudden coldness with the caresses of a few hours earlier. Unless...His face flushes. "I'm really, really sorry. I _swear_ didn't mean for it to be over so quickly. Next time, I promise…"

"There won't be a next time."

"What?" He is wide awake now, or at least fully invested in the nightmare. At the moment, he can't tell which, though he offers up a silent, fervent prayer for the latter. "What are you…?"

She puts the quill down and turns her head slowly, as though forcing herself to look at him. "Tonight was supposed to be to say goodbye, Ted. I didn't mean for it to go this far." Years later, she will admit this to be a lie. "And after…I just didn't know how to tell you in person."

He tries to block her escape route, knowing full well the futility of the gesture: she Apparated here, and she can Disapparate whenever she chooses. "Maybe that's a sign you shouldn't be going, then."

"I don't want to. You _know_ I don't. But my family…"

"Did you tell them?"

"Merlin, no." There is no humor in her short laugh. "That's the point. They've gotten even worse since I was last home. Mother and Father keep muttering about the 'bad crowd' Cousin Sirius's fallen in with, and Bella…I don't know exactly what she and Rodolphus are up to, but I think it's more than just talk. Cissy mentioned a crush on a boy in Ravenclaw, and they all lit into her because his bloodline only goes back three generations." She grips his hands tight enough to leave marks. "I don't want to know what they'd do if they found out about us."

He presses back. "I don't need you to protect me."

"Maybe not. But _I_ need _you_ to stay safe." She leans in and kisses him, pulling free before he can embrace her. "Goodbye, Ted. I love you, and I don't regret a moment of it…except this."

And then she is gone.

-

"_Loves_ me?" Hearing her daughter's shriek, Andromeda pauses in the doorway, mug of tea in hand. Dora is on her feet, hair blazing orange. "There's a war going on, and he still thinks _he's_ the biggest threat to my happiness? If he loves me, he would've _listened_ to me one of the times I told him he was being ridiculous!"

"Erm…" Ted shrinks back under this tirade, fumbling for an answer. For all her ability to read him, Andromeda can't tell whether he's hesitating because he doesn't know how to respond or because he doesn't want to squelch this regained spark of vitality. Probably both.

"No, dear, she's right," Andromeda breaks in calmly, handing her daughter the mug of tea and waits for her to begin sipping. (Later, Ted will ask her how she was able to decipher the cause of Dora's rant so clearly. She will smile and refrain from teasing comments on the transparency of Hufflepuffs and the predictability of Gryffindors.) "Dora, this has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him. He won't and can't listen until he's ready to hear it."

Dora lowers the tea. "So you don't think he's coming back, then."

"I didn't say that. You married him; you know him better than we do." She regrets the slight edge that creeps into her voice at these words, and the accompanying wince from Dora, but cannot prevent it. "What do _you_ think?"

"I think...I think he'll insist on doing what's right." Dora sighs. "Whatever that is for him."

"Indeed." Andromeda nods. "So you need to do the same for yourself."

-

There was a time, Andromeda is dimly aware, when she enjoyed her parents' social gatherings. At the moment, they seem very long ago. She does not particularly want to talk to anyone other than Cousin Sirius, who is at home serving out a punishment for conspiring with the Potter boy and a couple of other undesirables to 'besmirch the family reputation,' and she definitely does not want to dance with any of the potential suitors her mother keeps directing her way.

"At least go and say hello to your sister, dear," the latter finally suggests, throwing her hands up in despair. "You've hardly spoken to her since she arrived."

As it turns out, Bella does not lack for company. Her husband and a knot of other young admirers, some of them still at Hogwarts with Andromeda, stand in a corner, engaged in avid discussion of something.

"…nearly thirty-seven at the last meeting," Rabastan is telling the rapt gathering when she creeps over to listen.

"Forty-two," Rodolphus corrects. "And his ranks will only continue to grow. Why, with help like young Malfoy's here…" He claps Lucius on the shoulder. "…We'll have our own contingent at Hogwarts soon enough."

"Wouldn't that be a fine thing?" Bella exults. "I gather from Cissy that the Mudbloods need putting in their place more than ever."

"Too true," says Lucius with an exaggerated head shake, clearly desperate to sound wise beyond his years and only achieving the opposite. "That Ted Tonks, for instance. Bad enough he was made a prefect. His constant lectures on my conduct must come to an end before others start getting ideas."

"Patience, brother," Rodolphus urges, even as Bella nods approvingly. "The time for action is not now. But it is coming, and soon." He raises his glass. "To the Dark Lord."

"To the Dark Lord!" the rest echo, bringing their glasses together. As she downs hers, Bella tilts her head and spots her sister, still pale from Lucius's remarks.

"Dromeda!" she cries, eyes shining. "Join us!"

Knowing feigned eagerness is beyond her abilities, Andromeda tries to summon the famous Black composure and dignity, but all she can think of is Ted. She steps back.

A little over a week later, Cissy, in one of her last shows of defiance until long after Malfoy sweeps her off her feet, will owl Andromeda to inform her that her name has been struck from the family tapestry and that as far as the rest of the Blacks are concerned, she no longer exists. Andromeda will appreciate the gesture, but consider it unnecessary. The moment Bella's expression shifts from that of excited comrade to dismissive stranger, she already knows.

-

"Myself?" Dora laughs: quiet at first, then close to hysterical. She puts her hand to her stomach in what Andromeda thinks is an attempt to calm herself until she speaks. "I _wish_ it were just myself."

Judging by the glance he exchanges with his wife, Ted clearly recognizes the gesture, but needs the verbal confirmation. "Dora…?"

A soft cough from the doorway interrupts whatever answer she may be about to give. Ted, Andromeda, and Dora draw their wands, training them on the pathetic, bedraggled figure in the doorway.

"What did I wear at our wedding?" Dora demands, only the slightest catch in her voice.

"A Weird Sisters shirt, leather miniskirt, and rainbow leggings," Remus answers quickly, barely able to focus on her. Instead, he turns to Ted and Andromeda. "I…"

"We're not the ones you should be apologizing to," Ted tells him.

As she lays flowers at Dora's grave two years later, baby Teddy toddling happily away from her, Andromeda will regret the lost opportunity to lecture. For the moment, though, she concurs with her husband: the couple needs privacy. Quietly, they back out, closing the door behind them.

-

"Ted, don't look so glum," he hears his mother urge him from a distance. "You can always return them."

Ted looks down listlessly at the unwrapped package of socks and underwear in his lap. "Sorry, Mum. It's not that. I…"

"Excuse me." He and the rest of the family look up, surprised, though none of the others more so than him. Andromeda stands there, looking shyer than he's ever seen her. "Ted, can I talk to you about something?"

He is never sure who rushes forward first. It does not matter. Nothing else does: her family or his, past, present, or future. There is only this moment, and each other. And that is more than enough.


End file.
